When You Listen to My Words
by Roxanne Beaumont
Summary: *MAJOR SPOILERS FOR T.R.A.C.K.S* As Skye hovers on the brink of death, members of her team comfort each other in their own ways. Hints of Skyeward and Fitzsimmons pairings. "Overjoyed" by Bastille used as inspiration. All characters credited to Marvel. *COMPLETE*
1. Ward

_Oh, I feel overjoyed when you listen to my words. - "Overjoyed" by Bastille  
_

* * *

Ward couldn't sleep.

He tried to, of course. Images of Skye, bled white and unconscious, would haunt his mind's eye. He would simply toss and turn, just because he knew Skye was a few levels below him, in the lab, and hovering on the brink of death.

He was doing that now, in his bunk. His sheets were tossed aside, messily piled on the floor. His hair was mussed and unruly. He allowed himself just an hour of crying, and so his eyes were bloodshot. Any which way of sleeping- on the stomach, his side, or his back- would not let him relax. He debated taking sleep syrup. _But isn't that stuff addicting? _he asked himself. Alcohol was out of the question. It would morph his thoughts of Skye into some horrid monster of a nightmare.

He had to go to the lab.

Ward decided to at least look presentable before he went down there. It would've been embarrassing if Simmons saw him in his boxers. So, he threw on some sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. He took his time, savoring the sense of purpose he felt. At least he could help himself.

When he stepped out of his bunk, the hall was still. Light peeked out from underneath Coulson's office. Ward thought he heard the low murmur of discussion. May, of course. May had occasionally checked on Coulson. Words usually weren't exchanged. Just a reassuring glance or a comforting pat on the back. Actions spoke louder than words.

Ward continued down the hall. The floor beneath his bare feet transitioned from soft carpet to cool steel as he entered the cargo bay to Fitzsimmons' lab.

Inside, the duo seemed heavily preoccupied with the tasks before them. Fitz was tapping away on the Holotable, analyzing a number of graphs and what looked to be like a heart rate monitor. Simmons was busy prepping a syringe. Fitzsimmons had a look of grim determination. It was a complete switch from Simmons' sobbing and Fitz trying to comfort her. Now they worked in sync, driven to keep Skye alive. Ward admired them for that. They could help her, unlike him.

Why hadn't he been there? Why couldn't he protect her like those other times, like at Quinn's mansion? If one wish was granted to Ward, he would've wished to switch places with Fitz. Fitz was there, and the one who let Skye in alone. Undoubtedly, Fitz had the most guilt. And yet, there were two redeeming qualities that worked in his favor. One, at least Fitz didn't let Skye go without protection. This was provided in the form of a Night-Night gun. Second, it wasn't Fitz who pulled the trigger.

Ward tried to open the doors, but they were locked. _Too busy,_ Ward thought. _No visitors._Instead, Ward tapped on the glass. It took a while for Fitzsimmons to register that he was there. Fitz looked up and pushed a button on the Holotable. The doors slid open with a small click.

"Oh, sorry about that," Simmons apologized as Ward entered the lab.

"Busy, I hope?" Ward replied. He looked to the hypobaric chamber in the middle of the lab. He gestured to it. "Any change?"

Fitz shook his head. "No, nothing major. However-"

"-We have took Skye out of her chamber to ease her exposure in the cold," Simmons interrupted, "Briefly, a sudden change in temperature would've been dangerous." Simmons turned to Fitz. "Sorry," she apologized.

"No, uh , it's fine," Fitz murmured.

Ward nodded. "So, Fitz, what do these graphs mean?"

"Oh! Well, this one," Fitz pointed to a blue graph, "graphs her internal body temp per hour. This green one graphs her heartbeats in a minute, and then graphs it per hour. And this pulsating line is obviously her heartbeat in real time. We're also taking observations on her appearance and blood loss. All the data in the graphs is tracked by the chamber itself; we're just compiling it for the doctors."

"Do we have an ETA on a hospital?" Ward asked.

"No, May hasn't said anything," Simmons confirmed. "Oh, and Ward? Skye will be coming out of her chamber, and I'll be administering an injection. You're welcome to stay."

"Of course," Ward replied.

Simmons prepped the chamber by lowering the pressure. When the chamber opened, Skye slid out on a white bed. Her appearance hadn't changed from the time they found her in the basement. Her olive skin looked waxy pale. A trail of blood on her mouth dyed her lips a shade of crimson. Her hair spread around her like an inky halo.

"Alright, first I will inject her," Simmons took a look at Ward's critical stare and explained, "It's a mixture of water and nutrients, along with sugars like fructose and glucose to keep her from freezing. Then, you can have the rest of the time. All this will have to take place in a 3-to-4 minute time frame."

"Alright," Ward said. He watched as Simmons found a vein in the crook of Skye's arm and injected the nutrient serum. She stepped aside.

"All yours," she said.

Ward slipped his hand inside Skye's cool grasp. He cleared his throat. "Skye, as your S.O., I order you to wake up," he shook his head, "What am I saying? Skye, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I can't help you, that I can't do anything. But Fitzsimmons, they're brilliant. Please, Skye. Coulson... I've never seen him so sad. He's such a nervous wreck. We all are. Wake up, Skye. I'm a mess too." Ward let go of Skye's hand. Time was up. He wiped away a few tears as Skye slid back into the container.

Ward stood at the chamber's side. It struck him, how much it looked like a glass coffin. A thought occurred to him. He chuckled. How absurd.

"Really? At a time like this?" Fitz said incredulously.

"No,no. I thought Skye looked like Snow White after she had that apple," Ward explained.

Simmons tilted her head. "Ah, I see. Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony."

"Oh, yeah? Well, if Skye's Snow White, we're the seven dwarves keeping a vigil, and Ward's the prince," Fitz said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes.

"And only magic can save her," Simmons added with a sigh.

Ward shook his head.

* * *

**A/N: **This was originally planned as a one-shot, but I liked the idea of making it multi-chaptered. I have already written chapters for Ward ( chapter one) and Fitzsimmons (chapter two). This fic will also include Coulson and May, for a predicted total of four chapters. Please review!- Roxanne


	2. Fitz and Simmons

_"Words are all we have when we're talking."- Overjoyed by Bastille_

* * *

Simmons thought it was odd, seeing Ward like this. Stranger still, the words he said to Skye when she was out of her chamber. His words had a caring tone in them. Did he love her? Most likely.

Fitzsimmons had been working all night, monitoring Skye. They couldn't sleep, and throwing themselves into their passion helped. What they loved to do helped someone they cared about. Simmons thought it was beautiful.

But it didn't mean they had an anxious edge. Each half of the duo noticed it. Simmons saw it in Fitz's set jaw and focused stares. Fitz saw it in Simmons' precision and careful gestures. They were focused on their work, but slivers of self-doubt would trail into their thoughts. It would taunt them, saying, "You won't save Skye. You won't save her."

Fitz had much of this guilt. It would take all his willpower not to succumb to the second-guessing. Not to blame himself. Simmons also had this, too, wondering if putting Skye in the chamber did more harm than good. But they had to ignore this. Doubt would not help Skye.

Ward had stayed in the lab after Skye was returned to her chamber. Simmons thought the similarity between Skye and Snow White was amusing. Fitz thought it was a bad joke.

After a while, Simmons noticed signs of fatigue in Ward. His eyes had a glazed look, as if he was tired.

"Trouble sleeping?" Fitz asked, who thought the same. Fitzsimmons was like that, working and thinking as one.

"You could say. It's hard to sleep when all you can do think," Ward said in a rather tired tone.

"Simmons could help you with that," Fitz suggested, "She made an excellent sleep syrup."

"Oh, Fitz..." Simmons murmured in modesty.

"Non- habit forming?" Ward inquired.

"Of course! There's serotonin and melatonin to make you feel calm and happy, and the same sleep- inducing chemicals in those other syrups. I tried some once. I didn't have a dependence on it at all."

"Huh, that sounds good. Simmons, do you happen to have some still?" Ward asked.

"Oh, yes. In the storage closet; I'll go get it," Simmons said as she left Fitz's side.

Both men were alone. Fitz was getting a bit nervous. Would Ward act out on him, chew him out for letting Skye go after Quinn?

Ward cleared his throat. "I know what you're thinking, Fitz."

Fitz gulped quietly. He pretended not to listen. He made a mental list of tasks to do. The D.W.A.R.F.S needed their weekly maintenance and calibration.

Skye's gun. The Night-Night gun he had given her. It was coated in her blood, and the barrel was dented from the scuffle she must've had.

_Fix this,_ Fitz told himself. He went over to the side table and picked up the gun. He rested it on a holder. Fitz started to search for materials as Ward followed him.

"Fitz, I did blame you," Ward continued. Fitz shot him an accusing glare. "But that was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Let's forgive and forget. Regret won't help," Fitz said softly.

Ward nodded. Fitz took out a cleaning cloth and a can of aerosol cleaning solvent. He began to spray the firearm down and wiped off the congealed blood.

Simmons reentered the lab from the storage room. She noticed the mood in the lab changed a bit. She guessed some kind of conflict had been resolved between her teammates. She was proud.

Simmons walked over to the side table, where Ward watched Fitz repair a gun. Skye's gun.

She tapped Ward's shoulder. "Here's the sleep syrup," she said as she held up a bottle filled with red liquid. "Just fill the cap to the second line inside. It should do the trick." She handed off the bottle to Ward.

Ward read the label and saw "cherry flavor" printed on it. "I hope it tastes like actual cherries," he said.

Simmons shook her head. "Not exactly..."

"Well, alright," Ward chuckled, "Good night, Fitzsimmons. Let me know if there's any change in Skye."

"Good night, Ward," Fitzsimmons chimed as Ward left the lab.

Fits returned to cleaning, and Simmons started to prep another glucose injection for Skye. They worked in silence for a while.

Simmons broke the quiet. "What were you and Ward talking about when I was gone?"

Fitz was beginning to calibrate the weight of the gun when he looked up and sighed. He said, "Ward admitted he blamed me for letting Skye go in all by herself and getting hurt."

"Oh, Fitz..."

"But he apologized. I told him to forgive and forget. We need to move forward to help Skye."

"Fitz, it's not your fault. You didn't make the choice to shoot Skye. It was Quinn's."

"Yeah, but if I stopped Skye, Quinn wouldn't have had to make that decision," Fitz sniffed. Tears started to fall from his blue eyes. "I should've gone in with her."

"Then Quinn might've shot you-"

_**"Better me than her!"** _Fitz said in a raised voice. He put the gun down on the counter. His fists were clenched as he cried. Simmons pulled him into a hug.

She tried to comfort him. "Fitz, if we applied your logic to everyone, none of this would've happened if Coulson didn't pick this case and left it to the Italians. It was Ward's fault Skye got hurt because she didn't get proper training. It was May's fault she got captured. And," she said this with a lump in her throat, "it's my fault that I can't do enough for Skye."

They pulled away, both wiping away tears. Fitz looked at Simmons with understanding. She was right.

"You see, Fitz, fault and blame have a way to stick to everyone," Simmons explained.

"Okay, what sappy book did you get that from?" Fitz asked with a half-smirk.

Simmons rolled her eyes. "I can have insights, just like any other person."

Suddenly, May's voice sounded over the Bus' speakers.

"ETA to Rome Regional Hospital in 30 minutes. Stand by," she announced.

Fitzsimmons let out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank God," Fitz muttered.

"Skye,you're going to get some help," Simmons whispered to the girl in the chamber.

* * *

**A/N: **Many thanks to all the follows and favorites! I was really overwhelmed with the reception and feedback, you guys really are inspiring me to fic will also include Coulson and May, for a predicted total of four chapters. Please review! Many thanks!- Roxanne


	3. May

_" Oh, I feel overjoyed when you listen to my words. I see them sinking in, oh, I see them crawling underneath your skin."- Overjoyed by Bastille_

* * *

Phil Coulson was always a picture of calm under pressure. But tonight, Melinda May saw none of that.

Before takeoff, she had seen Coulson keep vigil at Skye's side for three hours. His palm rested on the glass. It was as if he wanted to caress Skye, to let her know he was still here. Waiting. She had even seen him shed a few tears, after Simmons told him Skye could end up in a coma. But Coulson quickly put on a brave face. Not for his sake, but for the sake of his team.

May had never had trouble hiding her emotions. Much less letting them interfere with her job. She sat in the cockpit of the Bus, the hum of the engine soothing to her ears. What was Coulson doing now? She already knew he was calling up the S.H.I.E.L.D medical facility in Rome. She could imagine him double-checking this, that, and the other thing with the front desk.

Come to think of it, May had never seen Coulson this anxious. Ever. Yes, there was always his concern when one of his missions went south, or one of his agents went MIA or got injured. Those scenarios he handled with the same precision as he would any other. But this? This was different. It wasn't concern for an agent down- or, in this case, a "consultant". It was the kind of worry you have when someone you cared about could be in danger.

It made sense. May saw the dynamic between Skye and Coulson. Skye seemed like she could depend on him. Yes, and Coulson reciprocated with the same.

May shook her head as she typed in the medical facility's address into the navigation system on the Bus. She flipped this switch and pushed that button, and she programmed the plane to fly autopilot. Straight to Rome.

She unbuckled herself from the seat. May rolled her neck, vertebrae popping. She walked down to Coulson's office. He looked up as soon as she closed the door behind her.

"We need to talk. Something's wrong," she said in a serious tone.

Coulson's eyes widened. "Is it Skye?"

"No, you, " she replied. His eyebrows knitted together. "I knew you changed. I saw it the first day you came back to my office. I noticed it when we finally let Skye in, and when we went after Agent Lumely. You care for her."

Coulson sighed. "I guess so."

"Why?"

"She's... she's what I left when I became a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. You know, we can't have children as easily as others can. Protocol. But I never let go of that, you know?" he explained, "I still wanted that family. I saw that in Skye. And Skye wanted the same, so I felt I could give her that by giving my shoulder to lean on."

May nodded. That made sense.

" I just... feel responsible. For all of this."

"You're not. Centipede always seems to be one step ahead of us. No one, not even you, would've anticipated... what happened. And you didn't make the choice to shoot Skye. Quinn did."

"You're right. I wish I did more for her, though. Maybe asked Ward or something to train her harder. I don't know."

"Skye's very capable, I'll give her that."

"But not in defending herself. Sure, she knows CS like the back of her hand, but-God, why weren't we there sooner?"

"We had no way of communicating, Phil. We didn't know Fitz and Skye were going after him. If we did, we would've been there."

Coulson shook his head. May looked at the clock on the wall. They'd be in Rome in an hour or so.

"We'll be at the facility in an hour. I'll let the team know 30 minutes out."

"Sounds good," Coulson replied.

May turned to leave, but before she did she said, "We're here for you."

* * *

Skye was shuttled to the facility in a large, white vehicle. May drove the SUV, laying on the gas to keep up. Skye was to go into surgery immediately, since the doctors said she'd already lost so much blood.

The minutes seemed endless. It was almost midnight, but everyone, including May, were kept up with anxiety. The ambulance's siren blared obnoxiously as they cut across the streets. Soon, they arrived. The S.H.I.E.L.D medical building loomed over them. It was stark white, ordinary. It was hidden in a small valley, but patients had easy access via an airlift, or through the tunnels leading to the building.

As the team tumbled out of the SUV, May walked along Coulson. She kept glancing over him, trying to see any emotion. No, he was wearing his mask again. Staying strong for the team. They followed the medics through the back entrance. Chaos ensued as the doctors rushed to Skye's gurney, shouting medical jargon as they prepared her for surgery. Fitzsimmons consulted the doctors with a several graphs and observations. The doctors hastily took their data, and hurried off. The team tried to enter the room where Skye was. But no success.

A nurse stepped in front of them. "I'm sorry, agents. The doctors are very busy right now, and there is no room for interference. Please, stay here in the waiting room." She led them down a series of sterile hallways. They plopped down on cushioned chairs.

May was exhausted, and she assumed Coulson was too. She hoped Skye would pull through. Given that she didn't like her in the first place, she certainly proved her worth in the field. May liked her ambition, but her emotions interfered. That needed work. She looked over to Fitzsimmons, who were tightly clutching each other's hands. She knew they were anxious. They worked endlessly in their lab. She admired them for their dedication to their friend.

Friend. Was that the way to describe Skye? May thought so for Fitzsimmons. They would always relax in the lab or in the living room, chatting and joking around. She had something more intimate with Coulson, a sort of familial bond. With Ward, well, she couldn't guess. Skye always had a cheeky remark or two for him. Sometimes, he even smiled.

With her. They didn't get off to a good start. May sort of regretted it. They had wasted their time opposing one another, and now Skye might die without forgiving May.

Hours passed. May resorted to breathing drills. In for a count of four. Out for a count of ten. So on and so forth.

She turned to Coulson. "You should try it."

"What?" he said.

"Breathing. It'll calm you." And so they sat in silence, focusing on breathing. Just that. Just something simple.

One of the doctors entered the room. He wiped his brow. "Agent Coulson? Skye as undergone surgery successfully. We have removed both bullets in her abdomen, and had some blood transplanted into her," he turned to Fitzsimmons, "the hyperbaric chamber certainly helped." They gave a small smile. "But I'm afraid that she is in a coma. She may wake up in a few days, or a few months. I am sorry. But you can see her now, if you like. Two people at a time."

Coulson sighed in relief and in stress. "Alright. Thank you, doctor." The doctor left.

"May and I will go first, alright?" he said Fitzsimmons and Ward. They nodded.

The duo walked down to the front desk. "Can you tell us where Skye is staying?" May asked.

The clerk nodded. "Room 840."

May shook her head. The number reminded her of 0-8-4. What Skye was. A grim joke the universe played.

They finally arrived at Skye's room. They opened the door, and saw her comatose form on the bed.

"Oh, Skye," May whispered.

There were two chairs in the room, with a monitor and a few other machines. A sofa bed was pushed on one side of the room. May scooted the chairs closer to Skye's bedside. She and Coulson sat side by side, and watched Skye take soft breaths. Coulson slipped his hand into Skye's. His thumb traced circles on her knuckles.

"I'm sorry, Skye," Coulson said in a low voice. Tears brimmed at the edge of his eyes. May rested her palm on his back; a comforting touch.

"Skye, you have to wake up. We need you out here," May murmured.

They sat there for a good half hour. Coulson shed a few tears, one hand clutching Skye's, the other holding on to May. It took all her willpower not to break down. She decided to leave.

"I think Ward should visit Skye next," she said as she stood up, "I'll go get him."

She laid a hand on Coulson's shoulder. "Why does it always have to happen to the best?" she said as she looked to Skye.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm so sorry it took so long! May is very hard to write, since she's so aloof. I hope I did her character some justice. The next (and last!) chapter will be in Coulson's view of things. I hope that one will take a shorter time to write. Please review! Many thanks to all the follows, favorites, and reviews!-Roxanne


	4. Coulson

_"And I hear you calling in the dead of night."-Overjoyed by Bastille_

* * *

**_Previously, in chapter three..._**

Coulson had just finished a call with the regional S.H.I.E.L.D medical facility in Rome. He double-checked that the best doctors were prepared and ready to go into surgery. He had even muttered a small prayer, something that his grandmother taught him. He was never really religious anyway. But tonight, he needed someone to lean on instead of the other way around.

A bad call. Such a flawed decision he had made to take the case. He should have left it to the Italians. Certainly, their branch of S.H.I.E.L.D could've handled it. He knew that his emotions interfered with his determination to find the Clairvoyant. Coulson wanted Centipede and the Clairvoyant to pay. To pay for capturing him. To suffer the same way Mike's little boy did.

And now, he wanted Quinn on the receiving end of that list. He deserved to rot in hell for shooting Skye. If only, if only...

Coulson leaned his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. It was awful, seeing Skye bleeding on the cellar floor. It was such a stark difference between her sunny personality. Now, she was unmoving, unable to see the light in the dark that once restored Coulson's faith.

He heard his office door click open. May stepped into the room, her face unwavering.

"We need to talk," she said.

They did.

* * *

Coulson sat at Skye's bedside, his hand covering her cool grasp. His thumb rubbed circles on her knuckles. May had left, and in his privacy he let himself cry. He stifled a cry- oh, God. Coulson placed his hand over his mouth. He exhaled, and uncovered his quivering lips. Coulson tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

What if Skye never woke up? The doctors had tried everything they could. Yes, the fixed her up, pieced together her organs. But the damage was done. There was nothing they could do.

No. No, that wasn't true. The doctors couldn't do anything more, but he could. He could make it right.

He never trusted the system. Now,he was going to abuse it.

He looked at Skye's sickly pallor, how she looked so frail. He leaned in a gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "It's my fault. I should have..."

He trailed off. He didn't know what to say. "Just...Please, Skye. Hold on. I'll make this better. I promise."

Coulson heard the door open. It was Ward. He sat down next to him, gazing at Skye. His eyes were bloodshot from staying up all night.

"Hi," Ward said. "Is she okay?"

"Just the same," Coulson replied. Ward nodded.

"Do you think... do you think it's my fault?" Ward asked in a low voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't give her enough training. She couldn't protect herself because of that."

"Ward, I picked the case. None of this would've happened if I didn't."

Ward shook his head. "What are we going to do?"

"I have no idea. All we really can do is wait."

"And in the meantime, we can punish the man who shot her," Ward said aggressively. He stood up, his jaw set. He started for the door.

Coulson grabbed his forearm. "No. Now's not the need to be here for Skye. We need rest. All of us. Besides, May could've beaten you to the chase," he said, ending in a small attempt at joke. Ward let out a forceful exhale.

"Fine. But I don't want to wait around doing nothing.'

"You're right. Go back to the Bus, I'll come around shortly. You go and get May as well. After Fitzsimmons visit Skye, we all need a good night's sleep."

"Alright. Sir, have you had trouble sleeping?'

"With all that's going on, I haven't really had time to think about it."

"You should definitely try Simmons' sleep syrup, sir."

* * *

May, Ward, and Coulson walked back to the Bus. Fitzsimmons were already off in Skye's room. The cool night air felt refreshing compared to the sterile odor of the hospital. Their footsteps made the only noise in the silence.

Tahiti. It was the major thing on Coulson's mind. If the doctors that helped bring him back to life, they certainly could save Skye. That would mean digging even deeper into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets. Coulson didn't mind. He had enough of those. They lied to him. Who knew how many others they lied to? They even hid Skye's true identity. Secrets would not help anybody, would not help Skye.

Is this what the Rising Tide was for? To show what was hidden for the greater good? Coulson could see the appeal. If he was different person, the kind who would rebel against an agency without hesitation, he would have searched for the answers to his death. Much earlier than he had. Skye joined the Rising Tide to find out what happened to her parents. He wondered what Skye would say about him snooping around S.H.I.E.L.D. Proud, maybe. Shocked, most definitely. She would've never guessed what he was planning. Before death, he was loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. After, he started to question their motives. May was right. He had changed.

They finally arrived back on the Bus. Just the three of them. It was so quiet. Usually the Bus thrummed with the clattering down below of Simmons' lab, the hum of the engine, and Skye making a ruckus with Ward during their training. The trio felt somber. It was awkward in the silence.

Ward stifled a yawn. "Well, good night both of you," he said as he walked off to his room.

"Good night," May and Coulson said in unison.

As soon as Ward was outside of earshot, May said, " What are you going to do?"

Coulson was taken aback by May's intuition. Sure, he knew the woman for years, but how she always knew what he was feeling was unnerving. "Nothing," he lied.

"Phil," she said in a condescending tone.

"I think... I think I'm going to use the system."

"You're going to put Skye's life in S.H.I.E.L.D's hands?"

"No, I'm going to abuse it."

"I-I don't understand."

"Listen to me, May. The doctors who brought me back to life can help Skye. I'm sure of it. We're going to find them. Who knows? Maybe we'll find some cure for Skye, something to help heal her. Magic, science, whatever. I'm not going to stop until I find something."

May sighed. "You're letting your feelings get in your way."

"Oh,yeah? I'm just trying to save one of my own!"

"Phil, I'm sorry, okay? But you need to think rationally. This is dangerous. You're putting your entire career at risk. We can't do this alone."

"That's right. We aren't. We'll have some old friends on our side."

"You know this is crazy. We don't know what we're looking for, what we're up against, and we're headed out with no plan."

"I know. I've done crazier things."

_Fin_

* * *

**A/N: **And that's the end! I hope all of you have enjoyed this story. I also hope that it was satisfying, and that I portrayed the characters realistically. This is my first time doing a multi-chaptered fic without abandoning it. I apologize for taking so long with an update. I guess after the new episode tonight, this can be considered an AU. I have no plans to expand on this. Don't worry! I'll write another story as soon as an idea pops into my head. Thank you so much for the response and feedback! Thank you all so much! - Roxanne


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